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espace de la création: octobre 2006 |
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02-10-06 |
Photographs by Ananda Amritmahal rscj
Province of India
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Poems by Ananda Amritmahal rscj (Province of India)
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Come celebrate life and living and love,
Let’s walk hand-in-hand to discover new ways.
With our work and our sharing, our dreams will come true,
A promise of hope with every new day.
Nurturing life, create a world of caring,
Nurturing peace, an end to all strife.
Nurturing hope, for great things happen
Trusting in God’s love.
Can we hear what the silence within us is saying?
It cries out in pain, in hunger, in fear.
Can we listen to words that have never been spoken?
The cry of the spirit within, can we hear?
Nurturing…
The world spins along with no time for the fragile,
The old, lost and lonely, bereft of real care,
Desolate children soon robbed of their childhood,
Carrying loads, far too heavy to bear.
Nurturing…
Fire and water, the earth and the skies
Weave all their energies into our quest
Our searching and dreams will shape all our tomorrows,
Yesterday’s ghosts we now lay to rest.
Nurturing…
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A Jealous God
A jealous god – that’s what You claimed to be
and so indeed You’ve proved. No lover’s rage
could callously despoil all evidence
of his sweetheart’s waywardness with half the ease
with which You knock aside each prop I find
shred every toy I hold too dearly loved
possess too tenderly.
A jealous god … but must You be so jealous?
And yet … and yet, Beloved, I’m glad You are.
My gaze wanders, my grasp on your hand slackens
but over and over again You ruthlessly
renew possession of my errant soul
You claim me Yours, refusing to allow
weak waterings of the passion that we share.
Bruised but secure, I know
whatever it cost, You will not let me go.
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The Five O’clock Alarm
The five o’clock alarm jangled
nerves alert, jolted
limbs into Sunday morning
rush to make early mass before Delhi heat
struck.
Kneeling in the dim coolness
I waited for the familiar quiet to settle.
Starch rustled, knees creaked.
Ceremonious entry and the liturgy
began.
Sitting directly opposite the altar
I couldn’t avoid looking
At You. Love? I don’t know.
I only knew, suddenly
breathless, bruised, but oddly
happy,
that You had claimed me …
that I was Yours.
Domine, non sum dignus.
Even those terrible words
mocking my procrastination
could not draw blood today.
You do not need to say the word.
You are.
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Number Game
One and one made one they said,
the well-worn fairytales and bed-
time stories. But mathematics, true
and tried, inexorably proves
that one and one make two, not one.
And so we found, through days of sun
and rain and chill and laughing tears
discovering that our “one” appears
to be demanding that we stay
apart “forever after”. Hey,
Brothers Grimm and maths professors,
don’t laugh at us when we confess a
credo so absurdly true:
if we want to be one, we’ve got to stay two.
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Perfect Tense
It would have been
if it could have been
as it had been.
It might have been
not a “has been”
but a now.
It should have been,
shouldn’t it?
But perfection dims in adult eyes
And a grammar rule no longer applies.
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Dernière mise à jour : ( 27-10-06 )
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